20 Years
by potfpeep12
Summary: So, you thought Phil would be back for Keely? Well, it's been twenty years... Where is he? Keely is just settling into life as a school teacher, recognizing so many familiar faces of kids whose parents she knows. All these familiar faces, but the one she really wants to see is nowhere to be found. Or does he just not want to be found?


**20 Years**

The other teachers here think that I can't hear them talk about me. They must think I'm blind, or something. They think the new Staff Lounge isn't equivalent in sound projection as that of an amphitheater. They think mirrors don't reflect whispering behind closed hands. They think-

"Miss Teslow?" They think I don't belong. "Miss Teslow?"

"What?" I snap at Mr. Hackett, jerking my body around to face him. He jumps frighteningly and clenches his fists as his side, as if some sort of confidence is just emanating from his person.

"I'd like to remind you of rule number thirteen of the Tolerant Teachers Guide Book. It states that-"

"If you choose to enjoy the last of the coffee remaining in the pot, then you are responsible for making more," I mimic him. "Why is it, Neil, that every other rule in the book rhymes besides this one?"

I saunter towards the creamer counter as Hackett follows behind me with the empty pot in his hand. "Unfortunately, the school board believes that it would be biased of me to write all of the rules myself. So, I had to designate at least one of them to be written by another teacher."

I let the last of the Vanilla Nut creamer drain into my cup, transforming my bitter black coffee into a tasty beige-nutty mesh of flavor. "That's fascinating, really it is, Neil. I've gotta go, gonna be late for third period." He tries desperately to follow me down the hallway with the empty coffee pot, but the glut of students prevents him from reaching me.

Upon unlocking my door after the chaotic lunchtime buzz, I notice a student planted on the ground and awaiting my arrival.

"Class doesn't start for another four minutes, Russell. You're abnormally early," I state.

Russell was always early and never spoke to anyone but me. He had the best GPA of all my students and never participated in group assignments. He was the kid I counted on to raise his hand when no one else would, which seemed to be about ninety-five percent of the time. And it seems familiar in some way, kind of like Phil felt to me when he first walked into my math class. I wanted to know what he was thinking. Needless to say, I think it'd be a little inappropriate to invite Russell to Otto's Pink Pig with me. Of course, it was rather inappropriate to go on a date with Mr. Hackett back when I was sixteen, as well, but I did it anyway.

"Russell," I queried in curiosity. "What do the other students say about me?"

He looked alarmed that I'd be asking _him _this, as he stood shamefully to his feet, reluctantly opening his mouth. "You probably don't wanna know, Miss Teslow."

I unlock the door and invite him inside after me. "I absolutely wanna know, Russell. Now tell me." And I did want to know, as I knew in high school when I would make desolate comments about my teachers.

He takes his seat up front and swings his book bag over his shoulder. "A lot of the kids here call you..." He looks up at me curiously, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"For God sake, Russell, I'm not gonna get you in trouble. Just tell me," I demand.

"I heard Vera call you a lonely old b-word," he claims, twiddling his thumbs as he looks down at them.

I'm only thirty-six! Now suddenly I'm _old_? If I weren't gushing with eloquence and charm, I'd have these sad-sacks know that I'm a fox! Not a dusty old cougar...

I'm not a _cougar._

The rest of the students come flooding in from the cafeteria and take their seats as usual. Seeing them whisper to one another and text under their desks angers me more than usual. I feel an essay coming on.

"Okay, class. Quiet down, please... Be quiet, class... Quiet!" Heads jerk towards me and their attention is mine. Except for one. Vera Schrader poking away at her iPhone.

"Vera, whatever it is that you feel is more important than my lesson, can wait..." I say, crossing me arms tightly.

She clears her throat and peers up at me deviously. "Actually, Miss Teslow... It's pronounced _Vee-Raw_."

Just like her sorry-excuse-for-a-weather-woman mother. "Let me make this clear," I state. "I know the school year is just beginning and some of you _freshmen _are trying to test my boundaries... I will only say this once: Don't."

I receive the expected scoffs and bitter grunts. "If you don't like the way I teach this class, then I'd advise you to get the hell out of here... If you choose not to switch classes but continue to act like , then I will fail you."

Vera stands from her seat with an appalled expression on her face. "I don't think our parents would appreciate the language you just used in front of us."

"I don't think your parents would appreciate the language that _you've _been using, either. But what would I know? I'm just a _lonely old bitch_, right?" I retort. "Sit down, Miss Schrader, before I send you to Hackett."

She obeys ruefully and I continue on my high horse. "From this day on, I expect complete silence in this classroom unless I instruct you otherwise. Understood?"

The class nods and I turn toward my blackboard to prepare the lesson.

"You really are a bitch_,_" Vera remarks, collecting her things and rising from her desk. "No wonder Phil left you."

I swing around, livid and completely caught off guard. "What did you just say to me?"

She shuffles toward the door and exits quickly. "You heard me!"

The lightest set of impromptu tears well in my eyes and the class becomes alarmed. I try and coast through the rest of the period without acknowledging her remark, much less getting angry about it. I wonder if my hate isn't so much for Vera as it is for her low-life, ignorant parents.

Back when I was sixteen, I was never that awful to my teachers. How could I be? I mean, I had a best friend unlike any other that changed my life entirely. He would have stood up for me if he were here. And that's what I can't understand. Why isn't he here? Why didn't he come back? I foolishly figured that once he turned eighteen and freed himself from his parents that he would come back for me.

Class is over and thanks to the decency of the public school system, I have a planning period.

"Miss Teslow, you're wanted in the office," A teacher's assistant hands me the call slip and I sigh, leaving reluctantly. Probably Hackett calling in to scold me about the coffee incident. I decide to bear through it.

The office is packed today with delinquent students awaiting their punishment. I never saw it this busy when I went here.

"Hackett is waiting for you." The new secretary waves me into the back office with a polite smile on her face. She couldn't be older than twenty-one.

As I swing the door open expectantly, all eyes in the room turn to me. Apparently I'm off the hook for the coffee.

Hackett stands from his crusty leather seat and introduces the family. "Miss Teslow, I'd like to introduce you to-"

"I know you!" I beam with excitement! Familiar faces are so comforting. "You're Lil' Danny Dawkins!"

His face flushes but he keeps the smile to save me the embarrassment, as his wife is giving us both a rather questionable look. "Actually, I go by Daniel now," he reveals, pulling me into a hug.

I gladly accept his embrace but cut it short for the wife's sake... She's really giving me a look now.

"_Keely Teslow. _How have you been? I didn't know you worked here," he gushes. Lil' Danny is like a Big Dan now... He's got a full beard that's shaven very cleanly, actual _muscles_, a deep and sultry voice, and a wife and kid! He's pretty irresistible.

"Yeah, I'm good! I'm really good... I teach Creative Writing in the mornings, sit in for credit recovery sometimes, and at the end of the day I teach Broadcasting."

"I kinda expected I'd be seeing you on channel six news by-" his wife coughs uncomfortably. "Oh, right! Keely, this is my wife Audrey, and my son Terrence."

I shake their hands with a huge grin on my face. "Nice to meet you," I say coolly.

"Well, now that we've had our little reunion, can we get back to business?" Hackett questions.

Danny and his family take their seats and I follow suit, waiting for Hackett to finish. He babbles on and on about the code of conduct at H.G. Wells and what to do and not do with your locker, blah blah blah... Danny nudges me calmly and slips his card into my hand. It's advertising his home makeover company very professionally. I look at him in confusion... I can't afford a home makeover. Not with this depleting salary.

"_Text me,_" he whispers.

I take my phone out slyly so as not to alert Hackett.

_'What's up?"_

_'I kinda thought you'd be Keely Diffy by now.'_

I stick a fake smile on my face and try to act calmly. _'Nope.'_

_'What ever happened to them anyway?'_

_'They moved remember?'_

_'Oh yea, have you talked to em?'_

_'Nope... have you?'_

_'Nah'_

An awkward pause sets in and Hackett is still talking.

_'I miss them danny'_

_'Sure its not just Phil you miss :)'_

_'Ha ha, sure ur not still in love with Pim?'_

_'Hey hey, i gotta wife now... i ain't thinkin about Pim'_

_'riiigghht... :)'_

"Any questions, Mr. Dawkins?" Hackett rings, alarming both of us.

Danny shakes his head and smiles at me. I laugh in return and rise from my seat along with everybody else.

"Then if there are no questions, Terrence, Miss Teslow will escort you to your first class."

All I can think is "This is not my job..." But to spare a happy moment, I oblige and follow the Dawkins' out of the office.

"So, Terrence, are you taking Broadcasting this year?" I question.

He timidly shakes his head, following closely behind his mother. Well, I can see he's nothing like father.

"How about Creative Writing?"

He nods speculatively without looking at me.

"Great!" I gush. "So I'll see you tomorrow... Okay, this hallway to our right leads to the cafeteria. If you're too shy to eat with the other students for now, you can go out that door there to the flagpole. It's got a cute little bench!"

The last time I sat at that flagpole, I received the worst news of my life... For the second time.

"Nonsense. Terrence needs to dive into the social scene like his daddy," Danny affirms proudly.

"Daniel, I think Terrence needs time to get used to that. He can eat at the flagpole for now," Audrey poses, leaving _Daniel _defeated.

"Right then, science and math classes are down that way," I point. "Histories and Englishes are that way... Oh! And the labs are down here." I lead them to the video lab, my personal sanctuary.

It's only slightly different than it was twenty years ago. The equipment is much newer and more high-tech. Phil still would've called it ancient.

"Do you know what we do in here, Terrence?" I challenge playfully.

He shakes his head.

"We do news broadcasts to the whole school..." I lean in closer. "If you're still shy about making friends a week in, I'll personally transfer you in here... All my students are friendly."

I actually get a smile out of him, watching him nod excitedly.

"She's right, son." How did they hear me? I need to work on my subtlety. "I wasn't really in Broadcasting but I did it for a whole day! Most fun I've ever had," Danny reports, referencing to my short lived day as White Panther of The Resistance.

"Well... I guess that concludes our tour. So, I'll see you tomorrow, Terrence." I wave them off cheerfully and continue my day with a two study hall sit-ins and, my favorite, Broadcasting at the end of the day.

"Miss Teslow, Grace didn't show up today and we need an anchor for tomorrow's broadcast." I find it very amateur that H.G. Wells feels the need to pre-broadcast all of our news anchors. But then again, I guess you could say it was my fault. The then principal Tillywack told me my on-screen kiss was both inappropriate and unacceptable. I was suspended for three days and they've been pre-recording everything ever since to avoid catastrophies as such.

"Okay, um... You can do it then, Owen." I watch as his face lights up, as he's always dreamed of getting to anchor one of our broadcasts.

"Yes! Thank you so much, Miss Teslow..." He strides away proudly but turns around once he's taken his seat in the anchor chair. "My dad says 'What's up?'"

You can consider it just like Owen to name his son after himself. I know I wasn't surprised, especially not after I was talking to his girlfriend about names and she tells me "Sorry, Keely. But I'm pretty sure Owen's already got a name picked out," with a disarming smile.

The day of Owen Jr.'s birth was full of unexpected surprises. Via didn't even know her water had broke, for what reason, I do not know. But for that reason, she ended up having him four weeks early and experienced virtually no pain at all, not until the very last minute. The crowning process began and she couldn't stop shrieking. Of course, I was caught off guard as we were smack dad in the middle of _The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. _I call an ambulance, the blood begins to flow, and Owen faints.

But the end result was a happy one. Owen and Via lied in bed, holding their newborn like he was an expensive piece of jewelry.

"Aww," Owen would coo. "Look at my cute little alien baby."

"What should we name him?" Via asked.

"...Owen Philippine Mitchell Jr." Owen finalized.

At first I was floored and the look on Via's face was the same.

"We are not naming our baby Owen Philippine!" She softly exclaimed.

"Vi, I want my main man to have some part in his life. C'mon!"

"Absolutely not, Owen. If Phil wanted to be here he would _be __here_!"

That was just three years after Phil left. We were nineteen and, of course, expecting him to pop back into our lives.

Owen and Via are lucky. They're parents were so supportive of their relationship that it made me sick. When they finally made an appearance at the hospital, they couldn't stop smiling. It made my own cheeks sore just to look at them.

Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell held baby Owen first and asked if they'd decided on a name yet. I, meanwhile, had left the room heavy with joy and took a seat in the lobby where Evan was sitting, face in his hands.

"Why aren't you in their with your new nephew?" I question him.

His head raises and I see that his eyes have been tearing.

"What's the matter?" I ask, taking a seat next to him.

"I'm twenty-five years old, Keely. Owen is _nineteen_. Ya' know, where's my pride and glory? I have nothing to show for twenty-five years of living..." He sobs.

"Well, Evan, I think that's the best part. You're _only _twenty-five. You have plenty of time make a difference," I explain, rubbing his back gently.

"Owen is ruining his life having this kid," he reveals, finally sitting up straight. "And why are you out here?"

I take a deep breath, gazing at the maternity posters surrounding me. "Because Via's ruining hers."

We both take a long pause, collecting our feelings and emotions separately. Owen and Via have _a kid. _There's nothing more important and needy as that. What are they going to do now? Get married? Will I be her maid of honor? Will they last?

"You wanna go do something?" Evan offers kindly.

One at a time, we gave Owen and Via our congratulatory goodbyes and left the dreadful hospital. Evan was such a gentleman that night. He paid for dinner and dessert, opened and closed the passenger side door for me, said things like "After you, my lady," and "Let me get that for you," he took my coat when we made it to his apartment, asked for my permission to kiss me, and later on he was very gentle with me, asking if I was okay at ten second intervals. I lied and told him I was fine, trying to bear through the wrenching pain I was experiencing for almost three minutes.

We dated for two excruciatingly blissful days. And then he broke up with me, saying "I finally found my purpose in life, and I just don't wanna have you uproot your life for me." Yes. He found his purpose, and her name was Tara Schrader. They met while Evan and I were at Pickford Brew one morning. She approached me acting sickeningly nice. I saw right through her, but Evan didn't. He said she seemed really sweet and couldn't understand why I had such a passionate hate for her. Exactly twenty-one hours later, I was at Via's visiting the baby, and he was shacking up with that scum. If you haven't guessed it already, yes, Evan and Tara are Vera's low-life, ignorant parents. They had her just two years later.

Evan and Tara, like Via and Owen, did not get married. They each had planned to until about six months after little Owen Jr.'s birth when Owen and Evan's parents decided to get a divorce. Irreconcilable differences after twenty-seven years of marriage.

Owen Jr. didn't mind visiting two households every weekend. He thought it was exciting. Saturdays with grandma and Sundays with grandpa. He loved it. And he is just like Owen in that way, that nothing can really upset him. If I can't have this, then I'll just work for that.

That is exactly his philosophy in video lab. He couldn't be anchor, so he chose the next best-thing, camera man.

"Miss Teslow," Owen called. I made him promise he wouldn't call me aunt Keely anymore, because students were starting to take a liking to it. Within two weeks the whole class was referring to me as aunt Keely. "Do you have any tips for me? Ya' know, like, what makes a good anchorman?"

I was delighted that he would ask me for advice. Every other anchor I've had just went for it, believing they were well enough.

"Sure," I beam, pulling a swivel chair up next to him and taking a seat. "First off, you wanna sit up completely straight, kinda like there's a board is tied to your back." He mimics my pose and smiles widely.

"Then, you need to pick a really intense expression and glue it to your face!" I exclaim.

He cutely raises his left eyebrow and stares deeply into the camera.

"Perfect!" I tell him. "Now, pin your elbows to the table... Remember to keep your back straight, and hold your notes just like this."

He follows suit, looking just like I'd asked. "Okay, now read."

I slide my chair away from him and point quickly to our backup camera girl. She pushes the on button and I watch Owen go.

"Good morning H.G. Wells. This is Owen Mitchell with your daily news report. First and foremost, Principal Hackett would like to let all mobile students know that, quote 'My parking spot is off limits to _all _people on campus. That includes an unnamed staff member who has, for the last time, scribbled out my name on the parking sign.' Unquote."

That would be me.

"Also, there will be a fundraising activity held starting next Monday that will further our efforts in attaining a strength training center for all you athletes out there. This fundraiser will continue until Thanksgiving Break by which point, the student who has sold the most cookie dough will receive their prize. Don't forget to sign up. And for the lunch menu. The cafeteria will be serving the school specialty, blackened black eyed peas and blackened roast beef with our specialty cod sauce."

Sounds delicious, right? Just as Owen is about to finish, another student enters the room with a sheet of paper and hands it to Owen, completely disregarding my presence. She smiles at me as she leaves the room.

"This just in! There will be nominations for class president held today in the gymnasium. So, don't be a goat, go ahead and vote," Owen says, winking at the camera.

"And we're clear," the camera girl warns.

Owen stands excitedly. "That was awesome! I've never felt so in place!"

"You did fantastic, Owen! I might just have to talk to the school about getting our live reports back." I watch as he beams at me, so excited that he doesn't know what to do with himself. So he runs up to me and wraps me in a hug as tight as a belt's grip on the waist.

"All right, class. No homework tonight, just remember to gather the announcements tomorrow." I let them out early, as it is the end of the day and decide I might as well clock out a little sooner to. I'll just see if Mrs. Bates can clock out for me. She owes me one, after all.

Just as I'm approaching my car, parked in Hackett's spot of course, Owen taps me on the shoulder. He gushes to me about how great he felt in front of the camera and thanks me again for giving him the opportunity.

"And also, can I have a ride home, _please?!_" He begs.

"Sure you can," I smile. "Is your mom home from work yet?"

"She stayed home today. Said she had some planning to do," he answers vaguely.

"What kind of planning?" I wonder.

"Not sure. She just said she had to plan some things... I guess we'll find out."

As we're impending on the Mitchell house, I scan for a parking spot, having a lot of trouble seeing how there are so many cars on the curb today. It's a Friday afternoon and not many are off work yet. Their hippy neighbors must be having another chill-out.

Owen and I edge our way up to the door and he pulls out his key, sticking it in the hole and twisting it skillfully. We carefully enter the house, hoping not to walk in on Owen and Via.. again. But as I peer into the living from the hallway, I see Via standing there with another man with his back to us. 'Oh no', I think. Please tell me Via isn't _cheating _on Owen.

She spots me, eyes wide with terror. "Keely!"

"Mom?" Owen questions.

The man turns around quickly, facing Owen and I. "Keely?" He asks.

"Phil..?"


End file.
